


Head Detective

by cowboykylux



Series: Flip Zimmerman NSFW Alphabet Series [1]
Category: BlacKkKlansman (2018)
Genre: Aftercare, Breast Fucking, Breasts, Come Eating, Come Sharing, Come as Lube, Domestic Bliss, Domestic Fluff, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Gratuitous Smut, Multiple Orgasms, Rough Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-28
Updated: 2020-04-28
Packaged: 2021-03-02 01:07:04
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,030
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23886436
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cowboykylux/pseuds/cowboykylux
Summary: His eyes snap to the movement, and he swallows hard, stubs the cigarette out in the little ashtray you bought him a decade ago. He chews on his lip for a moment, and his voice is so deep, so handsome and husky and low when he finally says,“Take off your shirt.”
Relationships: Flip Zimmerman/Reader, Flip Zimmerman/You
Series: Flip Zimmerman NSFW Alphabet Series [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1721575
Comments: 14
Kudos: 85





	Head Detective

**Author's Note:**

> NSFW Alphabet prompt A&B (Aftercare & favorite Body part)

You can feel it, the excited tension in the air when you arrive home after the ceremony. A shiny new medal is pinned to Flip’s jacket, an award for an incredible job done this past year, an incredible job being him. He was feeling good, had been riding that high with a subtle smirk on his handsome face the whole way back home, one hand wedged between your thighs in as he drove the mountain roads.

Without saying anything, you take his hand and lead him up to the bedroom, coats and shoes forgotten at the foot of the stairs as you toss a smile over your shoulder. He’s got a cigarette between his teeth -- because when doesn’t he? -- and he looks so sexy following you that you almost ask to get fucked right there, right there on the stairs.

But no, tonight is about Flip, about his accomplishments, about his wants.

Successfully up the stairs, he leans against the wall, watching, waiting for something, waiting for you. You look at one another in the bedroom, simply breathing together. He lets out a great big exhale of smoke, plumes of it through his nostrils that curl lazily around his smirk. He knows what he wants, and he’s been so good, so good for you always, you’re going to give it to him.

You’ve been together so long, you know, almost like you can read his mind, and you hum ever so slightly as your hands smooth up the sides of your stomach, span over your chest.

His eyes snap to the movement, and he swallows hard, stubs the cigarette out in the little ashtray you bought him a decade ago. He chews on his lip for a moment, and his voice is so deep, so handsome and husky and low when he finally says,

“Take off your shirt.”

With a grin your blouse goes up over your head.

Like a moth to a flame, he’s drawn to them, your tits. Obsessed, maybe. They’re certainly his favorite body part of yours, always have been. He loves the way they fill his hands when he cups them, loves how they feel against his palms. He crosses the bedroom in three long strides, the exact amount of time it takes for the blouse to fall to the floor.

The lace of your bra is ticklish under his fingers, but even through the fabric there’s the warmth of your body. He wants to feel it, wants to feel you, bare skin to bare skin. You don’t wear lingerie often, it only ever gets torn away after all. Flip liked to look at it, but he didn’t like to touch it.

No, he only liked to touch you.

“Let me?” Flip asks, his eyes so big and brown as they look at you. You raise your eyebrows, allowing him permission to be in control for the evening. He wets his lips and this time when he speaks again it’s not a question, “Let me.”

You smile, pleased that he’s willing to take charge, pleased that the ego of his is only fueled by your presence. You unclasp the little hooks at the back of your bra, let it fall to the floor along with the blouse. Your breasts don’t even have a chance to hang naturally, before his hands are grabbing at them, kneading them, groping.

He wastes little time, pushing you to the bed. With his hands on your tits, you yank down your bottoms, go to pull down your panties.

“No, leave them on.” He uses his Voice, the one that’s commanding, the one he learned in the Marines, the one that has your cunt squeezing, has you so wet for him.

You frown a little, at the notion though. He’s always so eager to fuck your pussy, always jumps at the chance. Maybe he will later, you don’t know.

The night is still young, there’s still time.

He’s fixated on them, on your tits, and you sigh out a smile as you settle into the mattress, soft satin sheets slinking and sliding around your body. He follows you, moves when you move, a pair of magnets. His gaze is hard and his jaw is set, but you can see the twinkle in his eye as he licks his lips, as he rubs his thumbs across your nipples soft soft soft.

“Like what you see?” You whisper when they perk up, stiffen beneath his calloused fingers.

“Yeah ketsl, yeah.” He breathes a shaky breath, he’s too excited, already getting wound up. He’s still fully dressed and you know that’s gotta bother him, you know that’s gotta irritate him. But he doesn’t dare pull away from your chest, instead he glues himself to you, gets closer, grasps your breasts tighter as he sighs, “Fuck you’re perfect, look at these, look how they fit in my hands.”

“All for you, touch me, taste me.” Your hand comes up to scratch into his scalp, fingers twisting into his feathered hair that you had sprayed into place not a few hours earlier, as you guide his head down.

“Oh jesus.” He groans, shoving your body up the mattress some more so he can get level with your tits.

He buries his face into your cleavage, kisses the flesh of your breasts as he holds them in his trembling palms. They’re sweaty, and you grin, because you love when he gets like this around you – trembling with need, desperate for you.

Your thighs rub together as you grow wet in your panties, as your pussy begins to flutter, wishing he would touch you there. You’ll ask him to soon, wanting him to get his fill of you first. He deserves this, he’d done such a good job on the case, such a good job at work – head detective! He deserved whatever he wants.

You’re spoiled, but you can wait, he’ll make you come in time.

“Baby,” He peppers kisses across your breasts, noses underneath them, clamps his teeth down hard against your ribs. “I could fucking live here, I could die here.”

You only moan and press him closer to you. His hands slide around to hug your back as he sucks a mouthful of your nipple, laves his tongue over it, tugs it between his teeth gently. You sigh into the touch, the hazy buzz of pleasure starting to get you worked up. Your hips press up underneath him, seeking friction, seeking the hard rigid line of his dick.

Flip is breathing hard against your tits, leaving all kinds of marks. His hips are starting to rut against your leg, and he pulls away with a long groan as he grinds his cock in his nice pleated trousers.

“I’m – can I – ” He whines into your cleavage and you laugh brightly because you love him so much, even when he has you he’s still so good, so polite.

“Yes, please Flip, please.” You arch your back for him, and he moves quickly.

His hands are all over you, all over himself. He yanks the buttons of his clothing off, steps out of his pants. He’s in nothing but his socks and the sight makes you beam up at him, because dammit you love your husband to pieces, love him as he strokes his big cock in his hand.

He licks his lips and climbs back on the bed, climbs up up up your body until the head of his dick slides through your cleavage. He groans loudly as you smack his thigh in encouragement, marveling at how he’s made entirely of muscle, watching as he flexes his body for you.

“Fuck, ugnh,” Flip pants, and you smack him again as his hips begin to thrust, trying to seek purchase, friction between your breasts. “Push them together – yeah just like that ketsl.”

He moans loud then, his cock disappearing between your breasts. You’re sweating just from the sheer stifling suffocation of his body on yours, his thighs bracketing your ribs as his hips work work work. But the sweat isn’t enough, the pre-come with smears into your cleavage isn’t enough, and he’s spitting down onto your chest to give more lubrication.

The spit helps, and soon Flip’s nearly doubling over, one hand gripping the headboard tight, the other fisting your hair as he chases his pleasure.

“Does it feel good?” You gasp, hands on the sides of your breasts to keep them in place, knees squeezing together as your pussy drools in your panties, doing your best to hand on, “Fucking my tits?”

“Baby, babybabybaby yes.” Flip groans, looking up to the ceiling with his eyes clamped shut.

You tip your head back, stretch your body so that you go taut, so that as he fucks you he doesn’t jab the head of his cock into your throat. He’s grunting now, and it’s such a marvel to watch him grow red and sweat-slick, a marvel to see how all the muscles in his chest arms thighs flex. He’s covered in speckles and spots, and they blur as he moves fast fast fast.

He shifts himself, moves you, manhandles you with baseball mitts for palms, tries to get a better angle as his cock weeps, a steady stream of pearly white dribbling down his shaft only to get whisked away by the flesh he’s fucking.

“I’m gonna come.” He pants, grunts and groans. It’s the first orgasm of the night, he’s too wound up, he’s too excited still. You know there’s more to come, hell, he’ll probably still be hard after this, probably will still be riled for you.

“Come all over my tits, come on me, paint me with it.” You nod, letting him, letting him do whatever he wants.

You want to be fucked so badly, but you’ve got to wait your turn. That’s okay, it’s okay because his hips are stuttering to a stop and thick ropes of hot come splash up onto your neck, your chin. Some splatters even make it to the corner of your mouth, but most of it slides down onto the tops of your breasts. You’re some great Pollock painting, lying on the bed beneath him.

He lets out a long and low shaky moan, come still oozing out of him. The muscles in his stomach tense, and you’re pleased to know you were right. His cock bobs in front of your face, rock hard still.

You give it a random lick, long and hot up the shaft for good measure, and Flip moans so handsomely.

“Make me come.” That moan did it to you, that was the last straw for you, you simply had to get fucked and you had to get fucked now. His cock was still hard, he was still coming, he could come inside you like he loves to do. But you wanted to come too, so your hands begin to smear the come around around around your breasts, begin to rub it into your skin as you whine, “Phil _please_ make me come.”

He tears your panties in two, the poor thing. Little scrap of fabric that he literally rips apart, brings up to his nose to take a deep whiff. Another rope of come paints your stomach, and he groans, sucks the scrap of cotton into his mouth, tasting you, moaning.

With half a brain you think to yourself, if there were one thing he loved more than your tits, it really was your pussy.

“I’ve got you honey, I’m here.” Flip assures you as he manhandles you once again, pushing and pulling you so that he can slide into you so easy.

Your eyes roll back and your legs wrap around his hips as he shoves his still hard cock all the way into your cunt in an easy go. You’re so wet that it makes such a sucking squelching smacking sound when he pulls out, as if your pussy didn’t want him to go anywhere.

“I’m so fucking close I’m gonna scream.” Your hands grab at him, nails clawing into his back, scrambling to get as close to him as possible. You moan, high and loud with little _ah—ah—oh!_ s that have your throat clicking, sparks dancing up your spine.

“If you’re going to scream it better by my fucking name.” Flip grunts heavy in your ear, pants, presses himself flush to your front, all of his come sticking the two of you together.

You don’t mind, you’d love that, love for you to never be apart, love for you to always be stuck like this. Your body shudders underneath his as he drags his cock in and out of you fast fast fast.

There’s not much else to do aside from hold on, aside from cry on his cock. He punches moans out of you, and if you had the brain you’d wonder how he has enough stamina for it. But he does, and he does, and your body convulses when he collects come from your tits and uses it as lube to rub and press on your clit.

“Flip!” You nearly sit up from the pleasure of it all, your eyes flying open before pinching shut again, because it’s too much, it’s so much, your body’s on fire as he fucks you, “Oh shit, Flip!”

“Louder.” He demands, and your muscles burn now with the effort to keep shaking, orgasm ripping through you.

“Philip!” You scream, chest heaving, nipples rigid and stiff, throat dry but mouth watering, drooling all over yourself as you come and come and come, “Fuck – oh fuck!”

He comes with you, though it’s weaker this time. He’s exhausted, oversensitive, but still somehow you can feel the hot spread of it moving through you. He collapses on top of you, face landing in the sticky spot between your breasts where now they can finally rest naturally, can finally relax.

But even still, even as the two of you try and catch your breath as your vision goes spotty, as you moan and grunt and cry against each other, even then Flip’s nose nuzzles your nipple.

“Phil, honey.” You whisper, whine, and he cranes his neck to meet you for a kiss.

You wonder if he’ll pass out right away, sated and warm. His skin is flushed, and he’s got his head on your chest which is how he sleeps anyway, it’d be easy for him to just knock out and see you in the morning.

He doesn’t, which is a little surprising, but then again not really. He takes care of you, all the time, always. No matter how tired, and this is no exception.

With a groan he stands up on jelly-legs, boneless and pleasure weak with a great big grin on his face. You get lost momentarily in how beautiful he is, blissed out.

“Come on.” He reaches a hand out for you, and you laugh laugh laugh because you can’t even lift your arm to meet it. Flip smiles at you, beams, wraps a hand around your ankle and gives it a shake as he tries to pull you out of bed. “I gotta clean you up honey-bunny. You’re so pretty like this but it’ll itch.”

“It’s itching now.” You complain, somewhere deep inside your head a rational thought is desperate for a wet towel.

Flip being Flip has the sense of mind to roll his eyes, and the two of you venture stark naked into the bathroom, not bothering to turn on any of the lights. You’ve lived here so long, you know the path, why ruin this magical moment with the bright shock of vanity bulbs?

“You’re so beautiful, I love you.” Flip stands behind you at the counter, kisses your neck, your shoulder. He’s got a cloth in his hand and he sweeps it over your body, caring for you, cleaning you.

He does this slowly, an act of passion in its own right. There’s something more intimate about this almost, the care. You allow him, are grateful for it as he cleans you, makes sure to get between your legs where his come is already sliding out of your pussy.

“I love you too sweetheart but you have to drink this.” You fill up a glass of water from the sink. You take the first sip, because he won’t drink it until you do. When you’ve gotten a good gulp, you pass it to him and smile at him, smile because you’re so in love as you cheekily remark, “You came so much you’ll be dehydrated if you don’t.”

And Flip, ever one for the theatrics, downs the rest of the glass in two glugs, smacking his lips together and sighing out a silly, “Ahh.”

You laugh then, on cloud nine as your knees wobble from being so well fucked, at least for this first round. He steadies you and smiles along, just happy to be there, happy to be with you. You’re so proud of him all the time, but tonight especially your pride swells for him.

“Cigarette, my Head Detective?” You rummage through the medicine cabinet for his stash of Camels, sticking one between your lips long enough to light it with a match before passing it off to him.

“A man could get used to this.” Flip replies, taking it and kissing you hard hard hard, kissing you over and over again, tongues smiling together. He replies as if he hasn’t been fucking you like this for years, replies like you haven’t been married from seemingly the dawn of time.

It makes you feel warm, knowing that after all this long while of being The Zimmermans, he still has an eye for you, a hunger for you. Standing there in the bathroom in the dark, nothing but the red glow of the cigarette tip burning away, you kiss one another, drink your water, laugh together, so in love.

And later once you’re all taken care of, once you bounce back onto the mattress, once you scramble to get back into each other’s arms, once your heartbeat begins to race and his hands begin to wander, you can’t help but grin – because the night indeed was still young.

**Author's Note:**

> yeehaw :)


End file.
